C'mon, Studio8....

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sasha
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C'mon, Studio8....

Post by sasha » December 27th, 2017, 5:49 pm

Another challenge, this one inspired by an article I just read in our local paper:

WHAT'S THE MOST EMBARRASSING WAY YOU'VE EVER INJURED YOURSELF?

A few years ago I was home one winter evening when I realized I'd left something (I've forgotten what) in the car. Rather than put on my shoes, I figured I could venture outside in my slippers to retrieve whatever it was. The walkway was that slick hardpack you get when you tamp down snow, but the car was close by and I figured I'd get away with it.

But I slipped, and I instinctively flailed about for something to grab. The nearest such object was the handle of a shovel I'd stuck into the snowbank. It didn't provide any support. In fact I pulled it right into my face - hard - before going down. The next morning my back ached from the strain, my bum was sore from where I landed, and I had magnificent shiner. Sixty-year olds should not be getting black eyes. I took a lot of shit from my coworkers that day.

What's yours? Come on, don't be shy. We won't laugh. I promise.
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"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710

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sasha
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Re: C'mon, Studio8....

Post by sasha » December 29th, 2017, 11:25 am

There was another time I was preparing a few Chinese dishes for me and my daughter. The thing with Chinese cooking is that once the food hits the pan (skillet or wok), there's no going back - you've got to work fast so that everything finishes at the same time.

Now, one of the burners on my electric range was a little wonky - the electrical connection was prone to drop out. I poured the oil into the preheated pan and followed with the veggies - and they just sat there. No sizzle. No aroma. Just a bowl of chopped onion getting soggy in cold oil.

"Fuck," I muttered, and lifted the pan off the burner to give it a whack to seat the prongs back into the socket. Then "Goddammit!" The burner was hot after all, hot enough to burn my hand - I'd just forgotten to turn it up from medium to high for the final stir-fry.

So we had the veggie dish some time afterwards, and I ended up with a bulls-eye burn pattern on my palm for about a week.
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"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710

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sasha
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Re: C'mon, Studio8....

Post by sasha » February 4th, 2018, 2:58 pm

Several years ago I decided to spend my first day of vacation hiking over in Pisgah State Park. My hiking boots were caked with dried mud, so I thought I’d put them on outside; but it had rained the night before, and I didn’t want to sit on the wet steps. So I compromised, and just slipped them on, figuring I’d lace and tie them in the car. I stepped outside, locked the front door and began to descend the steps – but I couldn’t move my right foot – the left was standing on the laces. Since I’d already shifted my weight forward to step down, I went headfirst down the stairs. I threw my arm out in front of me to break my fall, transmitting the force of the impact along the arm bones up to the shoulder, and cracking the ball at the top of the humerus.

So when you’re mother tells you to “tie your damned laces,” listen to her.
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"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710

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still.trucking
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Re: C'mon, Studio8....

Post by still.trucking » February 7th, 2018, 12:41 am

Can't really say it hurt me, well it did hurt but only my pride. I ate a danish and drank about six cups of coffee before I went to work at a bus driving job I had. I was driving a party bus full of drunk college students, I had to piss so bad, but I could not stop and hose down a tire because I was worried that some of them would get off the bus and start wandering down the interstate. So I held it and held it and held it. But I only thought I did. When I finally got them back to their dorm and I got up out of seat to relieve myself— there was a puddle where I sat, and it was running down the steps. It was a Depends™ moment.

that paragraph could use a lot of work but I am too tired to edit. Fix it tomorrow
"Natural selection, as it has operated in human history, favors not only the clever but the murderous." Barbara Ehrenreich

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saw
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Re: C'mon, Studio8....

Post by saw » February 7th, 2018, 3:13 pm

I live in a townhouse , the middle building in a small group of five such homes all connected, I am the only one with access to the roof. One summer evening we had a wild windy thunderstorm, I knew there would be debris on the roof so I went up the next morning to check things out. Sure enough there were dozens of small branches and twigs which would eventually move down and get stuck in the rain gutters. It was quite hot that morning and I was in my bare feet. I thought about going down to get my shoes, but the roof wasn't hot yet in the early morning so I opted to skip it. the roofs are flat... rolled roofing. easy to walk on without much pitch. Two doors down they had been working on the outside of the building and had nailed up building paper prior to getting ready for siding. Generally they use a roofing nail with a washer under the head to keep the paper from tearing loose as easy as it would with just a regular roofing nail. Unbeknownst to me ...and somewhat miraculously, one of those nails had flown up in the sky and landed on the washer ...one inch nail pointing up and obscured by a leafy twig....I stepped on that fucker in the arch of my foot, and the entire one inch nail went up to the hilt of the washer....I was in total disbelief...i hobbled to this low parapet wall sat down, and it took two hands to pull it out.....I hopped in my truck and drove to express care for a tetanus shot, since it had been quite some time since I had one....and the nail was rusty !
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading

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sasha
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Re: C'mon, Studio8....

Post by sasha » February 7th, 2018, 4:47 pm

stilltrucking - been there, I'm afraid
saw - I was wincing even before you got to where you actually stepped on it

I killed a yellowjacket one afternoon while doing yardwork, and later in the day was wandering around outside barefoot and nursing a beer to admire my handiwork. I happened to step on the dead yellowjacket, whose corpse was still fresh enough to activate the stinger muscles. Yep, I got stung by a dead yellowjacket. I couldn't fit my foot into a shoe the next day.
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"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710

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sasha
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Re: C'mon, Studio8....

Post by sasha » February 7th, 2018, 5:23 pm

My pee misadventure took place in the Quabbin Valley of central Massachusetts. There's a reservoir there now, under which lie the remains of four towns and their outlying settlements. My grandmother was one of the dispossessed, and to this day sentiments run high about the state's seizure of the land back in the 1930s.

It's a popular hiking spot today, along what used to the roads connecting the towns, and there were a half-dozen cars at the trailhead I chose to embark from. Chemical toilets are provided, and urination outside them is a fineable offense, since the watershed is part of Boston's water supply. But as I said, memories are long among the families of those whose land was stolen, and I always make it a point to stick my finger in the Authority's eye by pissing in the woods. As I did this day.

Unfortunately, as soon as I'd assumed the position and begun my whiz, the wind shifted. Instead of arcing out before me in a beautiful, ballistic parabola, the stream was pushed into my leg, leaving a huge, dark stain from my crotch down below my knee. Mortified, I hiked along parallel to the trail secreted in the woods until the same wind dried my pants sufficiently to dare facing fellow hikers. Karma had struck.

I had a similar accident at work - I had waited too long to relieve myself, and while I had reached a urinal in time, I wasn't able to extract my member in a timely manner, and began peeing before it was fully extended. I didn't realize this until I'd finished & stuffed myself back inside. I didn't know what to do, so I hid in a stall until formulating a plan. I would wait for someone else to arrive, and while they were engaged at the urinal, I'd leave the stall and head to the sinks, where I'd "accidentally" slop water on my pants. Feigning disgust with my clumsiness, I'd make a show of trying to sop it up with paper towels, then declare I'd have to go home to change. Lame, but it was the best I could come up with.
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"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710

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sasha
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Re: C'mon, Studio8....

Post by sasha » February 7th, 2018, 5:39 pm

Jeez, they're all coming back to me now...

A few days after painting one of my interior walls, I happened to notice a white spot a millimeter or two in diameter on one of the stairway treads. I wasn't wearing my glasses at the time, but just assumed it was a spatter of paint that had dried there. So I scratched at it with my index finger - only to discover that it was, in fact, a bit of lint impaled on a splinter. I drove that splinter deep under the nail, where it broke off flush. This was in the days when small towns often had a local MD you could run to for bandaids, aspirins, or stitches - but he couldn't help me, he said, because the only way to get the splinter out was considered a surgical procedure. I had to drive 45 minutes to a clinic in Keene. The finger had to be frozen and a wedge cut out of the nail large enough to lift the splinter out. The shot to freeze the finger was more painful than the splinter itself.

Years later, the same thing happened, only with a sprig of dried rosemary. I hardly ever measure when I cook, so if a recipe calls for 1/2 tsp of dried rosemary, I just stick my finger in the jar and pull a bit out. Another trip to the clinic, another shot, another piece of fingernail cut away. Now I measure. Learn from my pain.
.
"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710

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